Leaves fell in profusion, the air thick with the essence of autumn.
The wind that brushed past the face already carried the biting quality of a knife's edge, scattering countless leaves, which then fell to the ground, accumulating in heaps.
The scenery of Wuyi Mountain, where verdant green and dusky yellow interlaced, formed a unique landscape, stretching out before the eyes in indescribable beauty.
Atop a cliff in the Wuyi Mountain range, one could take in the most exquisite vistas.
Just a short distance from this very cliff stood the Dragon Tiger Temple.
An old man practiced his boxing atop the cliff, through spring, summer, autumn, and winter, without regard for weather, day after day, year after year; this old man was none other than the Head of the Temple, Qian Zhen.
